Requiem for a Violet Star
by The Happy Heathen
Summary: Three years since Spike's death and suddenly, Faye's simple bounty hunting life on the Bebop goes ass over tit, in a whirlwind of explosions, bullets, crime bosses and ghosts from the past. This time, the stakes are higher than ever, and to beat them, Faye must drag her ass out of the numb haze she's been lost in since his death, or risk losing everyone she loves...again.
1. Prologue - Regrets of a Dying Man

_Hi guys. So this is my very first post, please be nice and let me know what you think. This story will be told in 1st and 3rd person, depending on who's character's P.O.V. it's being told from. And yes, this is not just a single post about Spike's last thoughts, there's much, much more to come. So read, review, and hopefully, enjoy!_

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* * *

Prologue

(Spike P.O.V.)

My life began again in that graveyard. That was the catalyst, and not in the way I thought it would be. I never thought I'd be such a fucking cliché. You know, you never know what you had until you've lost it. I thought I knew the meaning, thought I fucking lived it, what with how much I missed Julia and all.

But then she was there, face to face, first a gun held to my head, then hugging me like I was her fucking salvation…

It's what I'd craved, what had fuelled my very fucking next breath. The love of my life. My reason for living in this shitty existence we call life.

But there we were, face to face. Me and the love of my life. The woman I'd betrayed a brother for. The woman I'd idolised beyond a shadow of a doubt.

That was the moment.

The moment I stupidly realised that the past few months with Jet, Ed…and Faye…

Fuck

I could barely believe it, let alone accept it. There she was, hugging me, begging me to run away with her. I'd dreamed of this for years. Craved it. So much so, it became my entire purpose in life. So much so, I'd convinced myself life wasn't worth living without her.

So, imagine my shock, when there she was, begging me to run away with her, to be with her…

And I felt…disappointed.

Not nothing. After all, I'd known both her and Vicious since I was still young; they'd always hold some dark place in my shrivelled heart.

But when she embraced me in that graved yard, while rain drenched us both, all I felt was guilt. Guilt because my idolisation had smoke screened me from realising how fucking good I had it with the Bebop. Maybe I loved Julia, maybe I just idolized her because she was the first kind person to look after me…fuck if I know. All I know, is when I stood before her, her pointing a gun at my face in the rain, my first thought wasn't about how much I wanted to make love to Julia, or how much I wanted to kill Vicious…No, when first saw Julia, after so much fucking obsessed longing…

My first thought was of Faye.

I didn't feel that epic, romantic, life changing love I'd boasted in her face. I hated her for it, just for a second. Then all I wanted, just a few seconds after seeing Julia, was to laugh with Faye. Laugh, at how what I'd felt for Julia, truly was in the past. Laugh at how I much I loved my life with Jet, Ed and Faye. Laugh at how ridiculously surprising that was. And she'd laugh at me, so smug about how right she'd been the last time we spoke, how I should've listened to her and let the past go…how I should've stayed.

I didn't do any of that though.

Pride and duty took over.

Julia wanted to get out. I owed it to her, so I ran with her.

Then Annie died.

And then…

Julia died.

Maybe it's because she'd been my gravity, my anchor…my reason for living, for so long…to have that snatched away, maybe that's what drove my revenge.

Or maybe it's like I said to Faye. I was sick of living in the past and needed to illuminate it to see if there was anything left of me to move past it, once and for all.

The moment Vicious died, it was like the final tether which anchored me to my sordid past snapped, and all of it, the Syndicate, Annie, Mao, Vicious…Julia…it was like watching them all fall away, fade into the black of the past, finally where they belong. My right eye cleared for the first time since it's insertion, and in that moment, a new yearning replaced where Julia had once dominated. Bloomed more pure and aching than anything I'd ever felt for her.

I wanted to live my life on the Bebop, with Jet and Ein and Ed, and Faye. Infuriating Faye. My arguments with her lit me up like a fire cracker, made me feel so alive. I wanted years of fighting with her. Years of drinking and laughing with Jet, being frustrated and fond of Ed and Ein. I wanted to train in the light of a star nebula, share smokes with Faye in moments of peace. I wanted everything I'd taken for granted while I'd been too fucking stuck in the past, hooked on a woman who I now realise I'd only 'loved' because I'd had nothing else even remotely good in my life, and she was kind to me, wanted me.

To bad I only realised all of this while my guts were spilling out.

God, this is a fucking cosmic joke. The moment I desperately want to live for the first time in my life, the moment I finally feel truly alive, is the moment I'm dying.

I wish I could've told Jet how much his friendship meant to me.

I wish I could've watched Ed grow up.

I wish I could lose more chess matches to that fucking dog.

And Faye…my heart's still too raw to know what it would've wanted with Faye, but I guess…I guess I wish we could've at least had a chance.

As I step one heavy foot in front of the other down the stairs, the flood lights blinding me and an army of police yelling at me to freeze…

As I raise my hand, cocked like a gun, half delirious from blood loss and regrets…

As I say ' **Bang** ' and collapse, my strength finally leaving me…

It's not my past I see flash before my eyes…

No, it's the future I could've had, if only I'd let the past go.

And as my world goes black, it's Faye's face, twisted in passionate fury, smirking in seductive triumph, crying and vulnerable, pleading me not to leave her, and those rare times all her facades dropped away, and she just smiled at me, soft and warm…that's the last thing I see.

And it makes me smile.

* * *

 _It always struck me as strange how Spike didn't react when Julia hugged him. And how he spoke to Faye about wanting to find out if he was still alive. So this is my take on it. Next up, we fast forward to the Bebop crew, three years later. How's Faye holding up since Spike's death? Is Ed any less childish now she's 16? And is Jet still the grumpy old geezer we all know and love?_

 _Please review, though no flames, but all other reviews are very much welcomed. Let me know what you think!_

 _Stay tuned Space Cowboys..._


	2. Chapter 1 - Whiskey Haze

_Hey there Space Cowboys!_

 _So I_ _realise I didn't really leave you much to go on in the prologue, so I thought I'd give you the first chapter too, to help entice you into reading my little story. I'll be posting fairly frequently, so keep an eye out, and as always, PLEASE REVIEW! And let me know what you think!_

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Chapter One

Whiskey Haze

3 Years Later

...

(Jet's P.O.V.)

Jet looks down at Faye's sprawling form with a heavy heart. This shit was getting old. He sure as Hell wasn't going to abandon her, or kick her out, but this shit needed to stop.

After Spike left, she'd reacted in a way he really hadn't expected. Maybe it was getting her memories back, merging her old self into the Faye of present day. Apparently, her old self was far more vulnerable, kinder, sweet even, and…dare he say it…deep. About as far removed from the Faye he'd known before, closed off tighter than a vault, a real selfish bitch and shallow as puddle. It's not like she could just forget that person entirely, but more and more those sharp edges had softened and she became something entirely less fake, like that rock-hard shell just began to flake away.

When Spike had left, he fully expected her to spit and rage, then steal all the money on board, and hop on her ship, never to be seen again.

So, imagine his surprise when she'd collapsed in the hallway, and cried like a baby. Cried until he'd finally caved and limped out to help her up.

She'd been a despondent shell of a girl that night, not eating, not moving from the couch, just staring at the wall, smoking and drinking, tears leaking from her eyes…

Then they saw what happened on the news.

Watched a bleeding Spike collapse.

Watched him die.

Well, not exactly. Word was he'd been alive upon arriving at the hospital, but died soon after.

He'd expected her to leave then, destroyed as she was. After all, what was left to tie her to this sack of shit ship?

Him, apparently.

She'd stayed. More than that, she'd helped his recovery. She'd cooked (tasted like shit, but hey, it'd kept them alive), she'd gone out and gotten bounties on her own, enough to pay for a physical therapist who'd stayed with them for six weeks to aid his recovery – that old geezer was the only reason he didn't have a limp for life.

At some point he stopped expected her to bail on him. At some point he just accepted that she was staying, for good. And he didn't mind that at all.

Gradually, she became less despondent, more like her old self, but kinder and more…whole. Ed and Ein returning helped. She remained in contact with her dad, but he'd moved around too much and been too focused on his work to pay much mind to Ed, and loneliness drove her back to the Bebop. Jet would never admit it, but he'd missed her and that scrappy little mutt like hell. Faye became like a surrogate big sister to the little brat…well not so little anymore, she was sixteen now. Three years later and their weird dysfunctional family had settled into a comfortable routine. Ed helped him and Faye catch bounties – they actually had a decent stash of money now, thanks to Faye kicking her gambling habit (another change he thanked the return of her memories for) – sometimes he shared a drink with her in a bar, he played chess with Ein (and lost every time), Faye had the odd girly day with Ed…yeah, it was simple, but they were companionably happy, most of the time.

But that sadness lingered around Faye like a cold mist. She drank and smoked every night, passing out in a puddle of drool, with empty bottle of whatever alcohol she could get her hands on, littered around her, while the stench of stale cigarettes hangs in the air.

Which is exactly how he found her this morning. And it must've been a particularly bad night, because she's wearing one of _his_ shirts.

Jet shakes his head, sighing heavily again, propping his hands on his hips. At least she has the foresight to hide this shit from Ed; she keeps to her room at night, or a bar, and only starts drinking after Ed's gone to bed. Small mercies.

He drags a hand over his bolding head and crouches beside her, gently shaking her shoulder.

Jet: "Yo Faye, come on girl, time to wake up."

Her small hand lazily flaps in his face, shooing him as she rolls over and groans her displeasure. Jet grunts and takes a deep breath.

Jet: "FAYE! WAKE THE HELL UP!"

She jerks up yelp, eyes wide, her hair sticking up on all ends, looking ridiculous. It's longer now, her hair, falling midway down her back; makes her look younger, more innocent. It takes her a few seconds to blink into awareness, always does, then she slowly turns her head and glares at Jet. He rolls his eyes and hands her a cool glass of water, shifting her attention. She grabs it and guzzles it all down in one go, gasping a sigh of relief. Slightly placated, she slams the glass down on her bedside table, and swings her legs over the edge of the bed. Jet pushes to his feet and heads for the door.

Jet: "Breakfast will be ready in 10, oh, and we'll be reaching Saturn in a few hours, so do me a favour and read up on that bounty we're going after tonight, So we don't have another Frankie's Casino incident."

Faye: "Yeah, yeah, whatever old man."

He smirks and flips her the bird, before closing her door behind with a soft _whoosh._ He'll talk to her after they've caught the bounty, ply her with good food and a drink or too, then bring up the hard fact that she needs to move on, stop living in the past like Spike did.

Cus it's shit like that that got him killed. And he'll be damned if she goes out the same way.

* * *

(Faye P.O.V.)

I wait until Jet's footsteps have faded away before finding the energy to shove myself up and stumble to the bathroom, grabbing the empty glass as I go. I sigh in relief as I empty my bladder and again as I brush the dry morning breath from my mouth. It's only after I've dunked my head under the freezing cold water that I feel the cobwebs in my mind begin to shake free from my mind, and horrible sharp clarity returns to my aching head. I drink at least another two glasses of water before I feel even remotely able to function, then reluctantly check myself in the mirror…and freeze.

My heart stutters and aches.

My stomach plummets.

I'm wearing one of Spike's shirts. Shit, not this again. Last night must've been a bad one. I tear it off over my head and hurl it into a corner, then lean over the sink and grip the sides till my knuckles go white. The shakes take over my body scant seconds later. Familiar grief rolls through me, icy and sickening, and for a few seconds, the pain of losing him burst to the surface, as sharp and fresh as if it had only happened a few hours ago, not three fucking years. It'll pass. At first, it took months to fade, to become numb enough to feel like I could breathe again. Then, when it would surge like this, it took weeks, then days, hours, and now, minutes.

I haven't had an attack in weeks, I've been doing good…apart from the drinking, but hey, I'm not perfect.

Stupid shirt.

I started wearing them to bed because they smelt like him, but they had to be washed eventually; that had sparked a particularly volatile argument between me and Jet, ending with me not speaking to him for a week.

I still wear them sometimes though, on nights when I miss _him_ too much. Fuck, I really need to get over this. We weren't even together, probably never would've been, he was in love with that Julia chick after all. So much so he died for her. I wasn't even sure what I felt for him exactly. To be fair to myself, I think I'd have a similar reaction if I lost Jet or Ed, maybe not quite as strong, Spike was…I dunno, something more to me. But like them, he'd become family. And losing him so soon after getting my memories back, remembering my mum and dad, my friends, and finally feeling the grief of knowing they were long dead…well, it was a blow I really could've done without.

Turns out family means a lot to me. Having a home, and a sense of belonging, I honestly don't know what I'd do without them.

Probably go back to gambling and get myself killed. Quickly.

The pain fades, numbing once more, and the shakes ease out. I drag a head over my face, take another gulp of water and slouch back to my room to throw some clothes on. I don't wear the yellow get up anymore – I don't wear yellow, blue or green full stop – now I wear skin-tight, black leather shorts or trousers, depending on the weather, tiny red or black crop tops and sometimes a leather jacket. I leave off my trusty white boots, for now, and pad barefoot to the kitchen, following the heavenly scentl of coffee and bacon.

I hear Ed playing with Ein and can't help the smile which lifts my lips a tad. She's still so young, I don't think that'll ever really change, I think that's just her, overly excited, loud and enthusiastic about everything; God I hope she never changes. As always, she lights up when I enter the kitchen, throwing her arms into the air, her chair rocking back dangerously before thunking back down.

Ed: "Faye Faye!"

I smirk and take the seat beside her as Jet sets a steaming, chipped mug of coffee down in front of me; half cream and three sugars, just the way I like it.

Faye: "Hey kid."

I listen good naturedly as Ed rambles away, jumping from one topic to the next until the food's ready and she begins shovelling it into her mouth at an alarming rate, pausing only to sneak pieces to Ein. Jet scowls and reprimands her, but it's only half-hearted and I can see the smile he's trying to hide.

This is how I survive from one day to the next, this is what makes the pain of losing him bearable. Jet and I argue about how tonight will play out – I wanna go in in disguise, but he says that's too dangerous and it should be him going in in disguise and me waiting in the get away ship. I win, reminding him that the target's hardly likely to let his old ass seduce him. He grumbles but relents, after all, I'm right, I can get close enough to knock him we can turn him in, collect our winnings and I can disappear into my room and drink myself into oblivion again.

I'm washing up when Jet approaches, looking hesitant, scratching the back of his head, eyes averted. My eyes narrow as suspicion settles in my gut.

Jet: "So, Faye, I was thinking we hit a bar tonight, after we turn this chump in, you know, to celebrate?"

If that's all why does he look nervous? I arch an eyebrow at him, but he just throws me a half smile. Whatever. I shrug and go back to washing dishes.

Faye: "Yeah ok, but you're paying."

* * *

(Mystery Man's...P.O.V.)

Long, capable fingers click through the files his men had gathered, at his request. Everything he needed to know about a Mr. Jet Black, Radical Edward, and the lovely Miss Faye Valentine. He lingers on her, one finger absently stroking over her beautiful face, smirking, and entirely unaware of the camera capturing her alluring form.

Soon. He'd meet her very soon.

For now, his glacial eyes dart over the information, as he reaches into his suit pocket for his sleek, black phone. Fingers blur as he dials in a number he knows by heart. The ringing stop after just one chime, and a nervous voice at the other end hastily answers.

Mystery Man: "I have a job for you tonight. Should you fail…well, I'm sure you can imagine. Don't disappoint me, understood?"

He give him my instructions and then listens to the obligatory bowing and scrapping on the other end for all of two seconds before hanging up, and focusing once more on the photo of Miss Valentine. His long black hair gleams, draped like silk over broad shoulders, and those icy, icy eyes darken dangerously.

Mystery Man: "Soon, Miss Valentine."

* * *

 _So…what do we think so fair? Please review, I'll have the next chapter up soon, and trust me, things are REALLY gonna ratchet up in the next one!_

 _Tah tah for now Space Cowboys…_


	3. Chapter 2 - No Way Out

_Hey there Space Cowboys! Here's the next chapter! Thank you so much for all your reviews so far so, please do keep them coming. As always let me know what you think, and hopefully, enjoy!_

 _..._

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Chapter Two

Sunset Over Saturn

(Lucifer's P.O.V.)

The man in the crisp black suit, which cost a fortune, turns from the window, a window which covers the entire wall behind his intricately carved, mahogany desk, and fixes his eyes on the trembling doctor. Everything about this man, this office, screams wealth and power. He's tall, towering over most men, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist and muscles which bulge beneath with perfect fit suit. Jet black hair falls to his chest, but it's tied back in a neat que right now. He's handsome, with sharp, angular features, a slim mouth set in a grim line. Not an ounce of emotion shows on his face, and his eyes, palest grey, like fog on a pebbled beach, they're arctic cold. When he speaks, his voice is terrifying; deep, filled with quiet menace, and power. So much power.

Lucifer: "You say he's finally healed? That we can wake him from cryo-sleep?"

The doctor's shaking like a leaf, the tablet nearly falling out of his hands as he scrambles to bring up the results and push his sliding glasses up his sweaty nose.

Doctor Yumiko: "Y-yes Capo, that's right. Here, if you look at the –"

He cuts off with a gulp as Lucifer, the man in the crisp black suit, raises his hand and shakes his head.

Lucifer: "I trust your judgement Yumiko, if you say he's ready to be woken then proceed with it immediately. How long will it take?"

Doctor Yumiko: "W-well, he'll need to be processed, there are several important steps –"

Lucifer: "A time, Yumiko, that's all I need."

Yumiko's eyes widen a fraction, slightly panicked, as he stumbles over his words.

Doctor Yumiko: "S-s-six hours S-Sir."

Lucifer nods and turns back to the window, slipping his long, elegant hands into his pockets.

Lucifer: "Get it done, Yumiko, and inform me when he's ready to meet with me."

Doctor Yumiko: "Y-yes Sir, of course S-Sir, r-right away."

The man finally shuts up and practically sprints from the room, making the guards outside Lucifer's office snicker at his cowardice. Dante, Lucifer 2nd in command – and younger brother – strolls in with an easy-going gait, smirking as the Doctor rushes past him. The guards close the doors and Dante saunters to one of two soft, black leather chairs situated before his brother's desk. Sprawling into it, he undoes his suit jacket's button and lets his arms sling over the sides.

Dante: "I still think it was a mistake to keep him alive. The man's a menace who listens to no one but his own half-crazed self."

Lucifer: "He's an asset we can use to our advantage."

Dante: "He's a wild dog, Luci, and a dangerous one at that. You can't control something like that."

Lucifer smirks but doesn't turn around. Instead he just keeps looking out the window to the city full of sky-scrapers, his confidence palpable.

Lucifer: "I can control him, don't you worry about that."

Dante frowns slightly, cocking his head to the side, wondering what his brother has up his sleeve.

Dante: "How?"

Lucifer doesn't answer, just smiles a dark smile and keeps staring out the window. Finally, his plans for further expansion can begin to take place.

* * *

(Faye P.O.V.)

I look like a slut. I mean, I know my dress sense was never really conservative in any way, but this really takes the cake.

I'm wearing a satin, black corset, which makes my waist look tiny and, well, let's just say my boobs look ridiculous and ready to spill out over the top. They jiggle like crazy every time I so much as breathe. The skirt I'm wearing, same colour as my corset, is skin-tight and barely covers my ass, and whenever I bend over you can see the lacy thong I'm wearing beneath it. Black fishnets cover my legs and literal five-inch stripper heels.

I repress I shudder, thinking about how many guys are gonna be leering at me tonight, but hey, I can handle a few horny old men. I take a shot of whiskey, and then another, shrug into my trench coat… _his_ old trench coat, because I need him close tonight…and cover myself, because it kind of roils my stomach to think of Jet seeing me like this. Ew, that would be like strutting around in this in front of my dad. Blegh!

I meet the old geezer in the rec room, he's giving Ed a final run down of her job tonight; it's not much, just unlock a few electric door, kill a few lights. She's done most of the leg work already, finding the bounty and any useful information on him. I'm looking forward to this one. This punk ass mother fucker kidnaps women off the street and forces them into prostitution in one of his many brothels. I'm gonna make him suffer before we turn him in, kick his balls so hard they'll fall off. Jet looks up as I saunter over, already slipping into the character of sultry seductress. Jet raises an eyebrow when he notices I'm wearing Spike's trench coat, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut.

Jet: "We ready to go?"

Ed: "Ed's ready, ready, ready!"

Faye: "Yeah, good to go, let's nail this bastard."

Jet smirks and nods, cracking his knuckles as he heads for the hanger. I ruffles Ed's hair as I pass her and she flashes me a wide grin as I follow Jet out. He swings into his clunky hunk of junk and there's a screeching sound as the hanger door grind open. I swing up into my ship and start her up. She hisses and whirrs to life and seconds later I'm flying her out, following Jet down to Saturn.

* * *

(Spike P.O.V.)

Ok, either the impossible's happened, and I'm somehow alive, or there really is the afterlife. Awareness seeps in like thick sludge. I'm fucking cold, my muscles ache like a bad hangover and if this is the afterlife, then it sucks. So, I'm pretty sure I'm alive. Well, how about that.

I blink my eyes opens, they sting and the light blinds me, so it take a few tries before my blurry vision clears. I'm in a glass…something. A cryo-sleeper? Shit, how long have I been in this thing? And where the fuck am I? I take a look around. The room's fairly big, and white, with expensive looking equipment against the walls, beeping and blinking. There's a machine next to my box, monitoring my vitals and several men in white coats scurry around. My box beeps and begins to tilt back until it's horizontal. Then the glass door hisses open with a puff of cold air. A Japanese man leans over me, undoing the straps holding me in and jibbing something about taking it easy. He looks like a jittering weasel, nervous and pussy shit weak. I could take him in one move, but first I need answers, so he's safe for now. I push myself up, groaning as my muscles screams.

Yumiko: "Now, Mr. Spiegel, please, you must take things easy, you'll feel very weak until we get some food and medication into y –"

His blathering is giving me a fucking headache, so I grab him by his collar and thoroughly enjoy the terrified squeak he lets slip. There's a flurry of safeties clicking off guns and some punk ass guards yelling at me to let him go. He looks scared as shit as I haul him close, his glasses all skewwhiff on his thin nose.

Spike: "Listen shit head, if you don't tell me where the FUCK I am, and how long I've been frozen, I'll rip you to shreds right his second!"

He looks ready to piss himself, but he manages to scramble through an answer.

Yumiko: "P-please M-Mr. Spiegel, you're here under th-the care of a Mr. Lucifer Stone, he saved y-your life three years ago. You've only r-recently healed c-c-completely enough to be let out of cry-cryo-sleep. Now p-please! Let me g-gah!"

I shove him away and climb out of the tube, with some serious difficulty – and then my legs promptly give out on me the second they take my weight. Ah fuck me. I groan in embarrassment as they get me into a paper thin hospital gown and a fucking wheelchair, then take me to a small hospital looking room, with clean white bed sheets and a large window. It's daytime, but the city beyond is dark and gloomy, with rain pelting the panes near hard enough to break them. They help me into the bed and give me as much food as I want – I eat enough for ten men – and that, plus a shit tonne of meds, go a long way to making my body feel a whole lot less useless. With that shit done, someone finally brings me some proper clothes, and directs me to a shower.

Once done, I feel vaguely human again, and still kind of in shock that I'm actually fucking alive. I need to meet whoever the fuck this Lucifer Stone is, and find out why he saved me. He'll want something, of that I'm certain. Nothing about this screams good Samaritan.

I look the same. There's a full-length mirror in the bathroom, and I look myself over. Dressed in black slacks and a white button-down, both of which fit me perfectly (not suspicious _at_ all), I look the same; tall, lanky, my muscles haven't depleted in any way thanks to the cryo-freeze. Same messy green hair and mismatching brown eyes. The only difference I see is when I lift up my shirt, and see the new scar; a thick, ragged rise of hard, pale scar-tissue, which spans the width of my abdomen, from end to end. It looks like someone tried to cut me in half…which, Vicious technically did, I guess.

Well, I'm not gonna get any answers in the toilet, am I? Time to face this man called Lucifer, and get some fucking answers.

* * *

(Faye P.O.V)

I don't trust the men at the club to look after Spike's coat, so I tell Jet to avert his gaze as I take it off, and snap at him to keep it safe.

I run through the plan in my head as I strut towards the sleezy brothel. I go in, ask to see our target, Fredo Rutherford. I tell them I'm new in town and seeking employment. All going well, they take me to see Rutherford, while Jet sneaks in the back. Anyone catches him, he just acts like a drunk ass client, lost on his way to the toilet. Then, I manipulate the situation and get Rutherford alone, and that's when I drug him unconscious, take out whatever guards are outside and wait for Jet to come help me carry him out. The waiting time is when I plan to pound his balls to mush with my spiky ass heels.

Cut and clean, a simple in and out.

I slink up to the front door, where two brutish bouncers stand guard. Their eyes drag over my body, paying particular attention to my bouncing tits. My lips are stained hooker red, and my eyes are darkened with cat eye-liner and dark eyeshadow. Yeah, I look hot as fuck, and their tongues are practically rolling out.

Faye: "Hey boys, is this The Crimson Desire?"

Bouncer No. 1: "That's right sweet cheeks, what you doing here? Looking for some fun?"

I shoot them a wicked seductive grin and sidle up to the thug who spoke, pressing in close, and despite my inner disgust, I show none of it as I stroke his thickly muscled chest like he's God's gift to women.

Faye: "Mmm, definitely. I'm new in town, looking for a job, heard this was as good a place as any. How about you take me to your boss so I can 'negotiate' a 'position'."

I lick my lips and raise my eyebrows up and down suggestively. The idiots chuckle darkly, and I'm close enough to this one to feel his burgeoning erection. Gross. But I don't break character. The one I'm pressed against leads me inside, pressing a pudgy hand to the small of my back – and promptly slides it down to my ass, where he squeezed a healthy handful. My gut churns but I gamely look over my shoulder at him and give him a cheeky wink and giggle.

Inside The Crimson Desire, the air is heavily perfumed with sex and cheap cologne and feels worryingly moist and warm. I have to fight to keep from wrinkling my nose as he leads me past doors, both closed and open – no surprise I prefer the closed ones – down a hallway filled with the carnal sounds of perverts getting their rocks off. Everything is dark red and sumptuous, with thick, plush carpets and silk woven wallpaper. The lamps are all scarlet covered and dim, casting an atmosphere of sin, and sex. We walk to the back of the building and up several flight of stairs, before coming to an ornate, dark wood door, flanked by two more guards, carbon copies of idiot no. 1 at my back. They eye me with the same open lust as the bouncers did. We come to a stop before them.

Left Guard: "Who's this tasty little morsel?"

Bouncer One: "This chick's looking for work. Wants to 'negotiate' with the boss."

They all share perverted laughs and one of the guards slips into the room beyond, presumably to inform Rutherford. I jerk suddenly as the bouncer slips his hand under my skirt and grabs my pussy. I shove aside my gut instinct to knee in him the balls and instead giggle again and turn, dislodging his hand, wagging my finger.

Faye: "Not without paying first, sugar."

He bares his teeth in a nasty grin and closes in, but thank my lucky stars, the door opens and out steps Rutherford and the guard. Rutherford looks good for his age, I'll give him that, but he has that unmistakable sleezy look, with slicked back black hair, oily olive toned skin and the too white teeth of a vain man. He's average height and well muscled, with a little pudge around the gut. He looks tacky in his maroon silk shirt and chunky gold watch which looks like it cost a small fortune. I smirk upon spotting it – hello shopping spree bonus.

His beady black eyes rake over my body, and his thick lips stretch into a shark smile as he crosses his arms, obviously trying to show off his muscles. I play my part, jutting a hip out and propping a hand on it while thrusting my chest out, making my tits jiggle enticingly.

Rutherford: "So, you want to work for me?"

He's trying to be all intense and sexy, but it's just comes across as pathetic. However, I slide up to him, squeezing my chest to his so that my tits look like they're about to spill; they probably are to be honest. He leers down at me, and yeah, I can already feel his tiny erection.

Rutherford: "You know, I always test drive new girls, personally. Sometimes, if they're particular talented, I'll share her with my men too. And all my sluts are three hole sluts. You think you can handle that, whore?"

Revulsion pulses through me, put I give him my best smoky look and thrust my hips against his crotch.

Faye: "Oh yeah. Why don't you and me head into your office now and have some fun?"

An evil glint enters his eyes, and out of nowhere, alarm bells shoot off in my head.

Rutherford: "Neh, I think I'll share you with my men right now, Faye Valentine."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! How the fuck does he know who I am. I try to jerk away, but his hands shoot out and grip my arms hard enough to bruise.

Faye: "Let me go you asshole!"

Suddenly, someone presses a damp cloth over my mouth and nose, and a sweet cloying scent fills my senses. Chloroform. Panic shoots through my veins, and I struggle like mad, but they're too strong and the drug is flooding through my system, making me weak and sluggish. Darkness turns my vision hazy, and the last thing I think before it takes me, is fuck, I really hope they didn't get Jet too. Cus if they did, I'm fucking screwed.

* * *

(Spike P.O.V.)

It's dark by the time they take me to whoever this Lucifer guy is. Six guys, armed to the fricken teeth, escort me to an elevator and up to the top floor. Guess whoever this Lucifer is, he's not underestimating me; smart man. Not that I couldn't take them, but I want my fucking answers first.

As we ride the elevator up, my thoughts drift to the Bebop crew. I wonder if Ed's still with her dad? Does Jet still mess with those bonsai trees of his? Did Faye stay with him? Is she ok? Worry churns in my gut. It's been three years, she probably thinks I'm dead. I hate not knowing where she is or if she's even still alive. No, I can't think about that. She's alive, she has to be. She's Faye fucking Valentine.

The elevator dings and opens onto a richly decorated hallway, with priceless vases, fancy oil paintings and thick, soft rugs. The 'escorts' walk me down the hallway to a set of gleaming, black double doors. The guards stop outside and one of them raps on the polished ebony. The voice which answers isn't one I recognise, but I've been around enough crime bosses in my time to hear the familiar note of dangerous command, even muffled through the doors.

Lucifer: "Enter."

The same guard shoulders his gun and efficiently swings the door open, before stepping back in line with the others. I arch an eyebrow as I step in and they close the door behind me; interesting. There're no more guards inside, just a man sat at what looks like a very expensive, richly carved desk. In fact, the whole office is tastefully decorated, and that taste also happens to be very expensive.

I move further into the office, and old habits kick in. My eyes dart everywhere, scanning every detail. It's huge, for one, at least three stories high, with a window completely covering the wall behind the desk, looking out onto the city beyond; A Saturn city, if I'm not mistaken.

I come to a stop by one of the chairs facing the man and prop a hip against it, crossing my arms and adopting my trademark devil-may-care smirk. I don't know him, but he's watching me with a smile like a cat who's got the cream, his icy gaze peering at him over steepled finger tips.

Lucifer: "I imagine you might have some questions for me, Spike Spiegel."

Spike: "Maybe. How about we start with who the fuck you are?"

He smirks and leans back in his high back, leather chair.

Lucifer: "Lucifer Stone, Capo of the Black Vipers."

Ah, now that I do recognise. The Black Vipers had always been a serious contender with the Red Dragons, but back when I was a part of all that shit, their leader had been a man named Ricardo Salvador. Guess things changed.

Lucifer pushes out of his chair and being pacing around the desk, hands clasped behind his back, his foot fall silent, disappearing into the plush, black carpet.

Lucifer: "When you dismantled the Red Dragons and killed Vicious three years ago, it left a power vacuum. Vicious got rid of the White Tigers, and there weren't really any other syndicates who could even hope to stand in my way, so, I took over. The drug trades, brothels, gun runs, everything the Red Dragons commanded, became mine overnight."

I'm getting bored with this conversation fast. I really couldn't give a shit about any of this.

Spike: "Get to the point. Why did you save me?"

Lucifer halts on the other side of the chair, and I push off it, losing my smirk. We stand facing one another, him with that pleased as punch tilt to his lips, me losing my patience fast.

Lucifer: "You took down an entire syndicate, you took down Vicious, singlehandedly. That's an impressive feat, Spiegel."

I don't react, just give him a flat glare. He spreads his arms wide, looking deceptively amicable.

Lucifer: "I'm looking to expand, and I want your help doing so."

So, he wants to use me as a weapon against his enemies. Been there, done that, no desire to do it again. What I want, is what I thought I'd never get the chance to have. A life with Jet and Faye, and maybe Ed too, if she's still around. And Faye? I don't care if Faye's not with Jet anymore, I'll find her ass and drag her back if I have to. I smile again, but it's not a kind one.

Spike: "Yeah…no. I'm done with syndicate shit."

I turn and begin for the door, shoving one hand in my pocket and raising the other to wave goodbye.

Spike: "Thanks for saving me and all, but if it's all the same to you, I'm just gonna –"

That's when I hear something which makes my blood run cold.

Faye: "Why don't you untie me, you mother fucking cunt ass pussies! I'll rip your dicks off and shove'um where the sun don't shine!"

I'd know that voice anywhere. Stillness leeches from my body, my eyes bulge wide as panic settled into my bones. Faye Valentine.

Slowly, very fucking slowly, I turn back around, my hands now clenched into fists by my side as I find the source of her voice. Lucifer fucking Stone is leaning against his desk, that dangerous smirk still in place, bigger now, as he spins his laptop around to reveal a video feed, of Faye. She's alone, tied to a chair, blindfolded and dressed…fuck, my dick twitches, even though it's really not the fucking time. She's spitting like a wild cat and struggling against the ropes. The image flickers, and switches to an image of Jet, and my heart sinks. He's in exactly the same situation (though thankfully dressed far less provocatively).

Rage seeps into every cell in my body, replacing the panic in a heartbeat. And he sees it too, because infuriating smirk finally melts away, and there he is, the real Lucifer. Cold, hard and ruthless. And holding two fucking trump cards.

What a shit storm to wake up to.

Lucifer: "I never expected you to co-operate, Spiegel. When Dr. Yumiko told me you were close to being healed a few weeks ago, I set certain events into motion to trap your two friends here. It was pure luck that the same day he tells me we could wake you up, Mr. Black and Miss. Valentine fell into said trap."

I say nothing, I'm too fucking close to the edge right now.

Lucifer: "They're unharmed, for now. Though you should see how…thin, the guard's obedience is waning, an one can hardly blame them."

He taps a button and the video switches back to Faye. She still struggling and screaming profanities. Fuck, she looks so fucking beautiful, and more importantly, alive. And apparently, still bounty hunting with Jet. The thought of something happening to her, to either of them, burns horror in my chest. Lucifer is watching her too, and I really, really hate the dark lust that enters his icy eyes.

Lucifer: "She's really is stunning. She'd make a fine whore, I could make a killing with her."

His gaze shifts back to me and I tear my gaze away from the screen and lock eyes with him, grinding my teeth to keep from bashing his brains in.

Lucifer: "I'll make this very simple, Spiegel. I'll release Mr. Black and the lovely Miss Valentine, complete safe and unharmed. You can all go back to living on that hunk of junk, with the child and the dog. But, in return, you work for me. When I call you in for a job, you come running. You work for me, help me expand, and everyone you care about remains untouched."

I want to tear his head from his shoulders. I want to throw him through the fucking window. But I don't even know where they are, and for all I know, if I kill him, he could've commanded his men to kill both Jet and Faye if anything happens to him. My hands are fucking tied.

And the bastard knows it.

Spike: "And if I refuse?"

Lucifer fixes me with a steely look, and shrugs.

Lucifer: "Then Mr. Black is shot point blank, the dog will be killed, the child will be captured and sold into slavery, and Miss. Valentine?"

His smirk returns, but this time, it's dark as sin. I feel sick.

Lucifer: "She'll be gangraped. Over, and over, for the rest of her miserable life. I may even force you to watch. I may even take a turn myself. I will make her feel so much pain and humiliation, she'll beg for death."

I'm going to kill him. Not now. No, for now, for the sake of Jet and Faye, I'll play along, be his obedient killing lap dog. But I'll kill him one day. He's just marked himself for death.

He slams the laptop shut, cutting off Faye's tirade and crosses his arms, fixing me with a glacial glare.

Lucifer: "So, what's it to be, Spiegel?"

I wait for the rage to subside enough for me to speak. It takes several deep breaths and I'm surprised flames don't shoot from my nostrils, but eventually I managed to get it under control, relax my muscles, supress the fury, think clearly. I rake my gaze over his smug features, and I take back my earlier statement.

He's underestimated me. He's too arrogant, been in power too long. He has no idea the enemy he's made this day.

Spike: "Fine. I'll do your _fucking_ bidding. Now, let them, _the fuck_ , go."

Lucifer grins, once again the cordial businessman.

Lucifer: "Actually, I recently found out that the man holding them, has been embezzling. Men who steal from me, die. So, feel free to storm the brothel, and kill everyone and anyone who stands in your way."

He strides past me and opens the door, smiling at me like we've just become great friends.

Lucifer: "My men will take you to the armoury, please take anything you may need. If you need any help, just say, and you can take as many of my men as you desire. And, whenever you're ready, they'll drive you to the location."

For a moment, I just glare at him, wondering how hard it would be to take out his guards and mutilate him. But no, I need Jet and Faye safe before I go against him. So, instead of tearing him several new assholes, I clench my fists and stalk out of the office, fuming so much I swear there's a dark storm cloud oozing out around me. I pause when I reach Lucifer.

Spike: "I'll take your fucking weapons, but fuck if I need your men. I go in alone."

He tilts his head and smiles good-naturedly.

Lucifer: "Of course, Mr. Spiegel. I expected nothing less."

Fuck him. Fuck this. Killing Vicious was supposed to end this shit, free me up to live a life on the Bebop.

I guess I can't be too mad though, he did save me and make that life a possibility. But still, fuck him. He's a fucking dead man.

First though, I need to make sure Jet and Faye are safe. So, I follow his guards to the armoury, and prepare myself for a raid.

* * *

 _Let me know what you think! I'll get the next chapter up soon._

 _See you soon Space Cowboys..._


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